


Accompanied

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Super Lovers (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Insomnia, M/M, Masturbation, No Plot/Plotless, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-30 01:48:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10866495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "He hears cloth shifting, the sound of pajama pants sliding down across bare skin as Aki sighs an exhale; and then the other takes a breath, and something about the way it catches in his throat tells Shima everything he needs to know in the span of a single tremor of adrenaline." Aki takes advantage of assumed privacy to lull himself to sleep, and Shima learns more about them both than he intended.





	Accompanied

Shima is almost asleep when the bedroom door opens.

It’s quiet, at least. For how loud Aki is in the course of everyday life he’s proven himself more than capable of care in this, on those nights he lingers in the living room while Shima retires to the dark and quiet of their shared bedroom. Usually Shima would sleep right through the creak of the door opening, and the shifting line of illumination that passes over the floor as Aki slips inside; but he’s been restless, uncomfortable against his bed no matter which way he lies, and he’s been lying at the cusp of sleep for what feels like hours since he laid down. He’s finally found a reasonably comfortable position, with a leg thrown over the edge of the pulled-back blankets beneath him and his shoulders turned in to face the wall; but sleep is still eluding him, still hovering at the back of his thoughts rather than fully upon him, and the sound of the door is enough to stir him back towards consciousness once more.

Shima doesn’t say anything as Aki eases the door shut behind him and shuffles across the room towards the closet. He’s only just gotten comfortable, he doesn’t want to disturb himself and return up the whole long route he’s taken towards the beginnings of sleep; and he feels voiceless, in that soft, drifting way that comes with the onset of almost-dreams, like he’s lost track of his own coherency and is left to fumble over even the idea of words in his head. Besides, Aki is moving with deliberate care, so softly Shima can barely hear the sound of him stripping off the weight of his jeans and pulling on the soft of pajama pants instead, and even if his quiet is unnecessary Shima is too charmed by Aki’s thoughtfulness to interrupt. So he lies still, his eyes shut and breathing slow as he listens to Aki ready himself for sleep and pad back across the floor to pull back the sheets of his own bed.

Shima is expecting Aki to fall asleep immediately. When they were younger and more likely to go to bed at the same time Aki always made it to sleep first; for a while Shima took his twin’s breathing as a lullaby, waiting through the very few minutes it took for Aki to go slack and heavy with unconsciousness before shutting his own eyes and letting the soft of the other’s breathing urge him to sleep in Aki’s wake. Aki is usually asleep within a handful of minutes of lying down, falling into dreams with a speed that Shima has always found vaguely impressive; but tonight is an exception, or maybe it’s Shima’s own insomnia that has mirrored itself into Aki’s experience, because for several minutes he can’t even seem to lie still. There’s the sound of his bed shifting, the rustle of blankets being thrown off only to be retrieved minutes later, the low grumble of sound in Aki’s throat as he manhandles his pillow into an attempt at greater comfort. It makes Shima smile to himself in some fond recognition of this echo of his own struggle; and then finally Aki collapses to his back atop his own blankets, and huffs a frustrated exhale to the ceiling.

There’s a long span of silence. Shima wonders if Aki is going to get up and return to whatever he was doing to pass the time downstairs, wonders if he isn’t going to find the leading edge of sleep for himself after all. But the other’s breathing doesn’t ease, doesn’t start a slow unwinding into relaxation; and then he takes a breath, and whispers “Shima?” very softly into the quiet of the room. “Are you awake?”

It takes Shima a moment to make sense of the question. He must be closer to sleep than he thought he was; the unexpected address startles his eyes wide and tightens his throat against any possibility of sound for a moment. He blinks at the wall, opens his mouth to answer; and from the other bed, over his shoulders, Aki sighs a breath of unmistakable relief.

“Thank goodness,” he mutters, more to himself than for the audience he doesn’t know he has. There’s a rustle of fabric, the sound of a breath; Shima stays silent, blinking at the wall and wondering vaguely why Aki would want him to be asleep, why it would make the least difference at all if he’s not going to get up and return to the living room. He hears cloth shifting, the sound of pajama pants sliding down across bare skin as Aki sighs an exhale; and then the other takes a breath, and something about the way it catches in his throat tells Shima everything he needs to know in the span of a single tremor of adrenaline.

He feels bad immediately. He should have answered Aki’s question at once, even if it was intended as rhetorical; but it’s impossible to announce himself now, when it’s become abundantly obvious what Aki is doing in the bed on the other side of the room. It’s not a bad idea, as far as tricks against insomnia go; Shima thought about indulging too, in the span of that unmeasured time he had the room to himself. But it’s always a risk, in a shared room as they have, and getting up to retreat to the bathroom seemed like too much work; and so Shima had given up the idea entirely. Aki seems to have had the same thought as far as relieving some measure of tension; but with Shima turned away and presumably asleep, convenience has apparently won the day over certain privacy. Shima can feel his face heating, embarrassment rising in his veins as he listens to the catch of Aki’s breathing coming faster as he jerks himself off; but there’s nothing he can do, now, except continue to feign sleep until such time as Aki himself falls into unconsciousness.

The sound seems loud against the quiet of the room. There’s not much to hear, really: the rustle of fabric shifting, the faster pace of Aki’s inhales, maybe the creak of the mattress as the other’s weight shifts. But Shima can’t help the way his idle thoughts fixate on each whisper of noise, the way his imagination forms itself around the outline of Aki lying on his back over his sheets, his shoulders shifting fast on the rush of his breathing and his tight-braced fingers stroking up over himself. His pants must be slung low against his thighs, pushed down and out of the way of the dark curl of hair at his hips, away from the heavy weight of his balls and the flushed curve of his cock; Shima can imagine the pace of the other’s hand moving over himself, can shape the rhythm of Aki’s motion to the faint sounds of friction and the occasional shift of the bed creaking. Aki is breathing faster as the rate of his motion picks up, his inhales catching on the edge of whimpers in the back of his throat; Shima can parse the heat of pleasure under the sound, can imagine the other’s cock twitching harder under his grip as his hold speeds, as his wrist shifts into a faster rhythm even than what he had before as arousal spikes hot in him. There’s the sound of damp skin catching on itself as Aki’s skin goes hot and slick with sweat ignored for the rise of arousal in him; and it’s as Shima listens to Aki gasp a desperate inhale that he realizes, suddenly, how absolutely hard he is against the sheets caught between his legs.

There’s a rush of horror, first. To be responding like this to his brother -- to his _twin_ \-- Shima can feel his blood run cold with guilt even as his cock strains against the front of his pajama pants like it’s begging for the same use Aki is giving to himself. But then there’s nothing so surprising about that, he tries to caveat; sex is sex, there’s something inherently arousing about another human being in the throes of pleasure. Surely he would be reacting the same to Haru, or Kiyoka, or one of his classmates; but when he reaches for the idea there’s no traction against the heat, nothing like the unasked-for desire coiling itself up his spine now. Perhaps it’s because they’re twins, he tries next, maybe this is one of those strange echoes of response they sometimes have, even now, years after they stopped spending every waking moment together; but Shima can feel the futility of that excuse as quickly as he forms it in his head. This isn’t some vague, confused desire, not the casual heat of the erections that he wakes with more from biology than conscious want; this is specific, targeted, rising in him in direct response to the sound of Aki jerking himself off on the other side of the room.

His skin is flushing hot, his breathing catching quicker in his chest; and against his ears there’s the sound of Aki’s hand stroking roughly over his own cock, and all Shima can think of is the fit of those fingers against his own. Would they feel different, he wonders, would the grip of his brother’s hold on his length feel like that of a stranger’s, like the lover’s touch Shima’s not yet experienced for himself? Or would it be an echo of his palm, his own bone structure hidden underneath foreign calluses and the marks of a life run alongside but not atop his own? He doesn’t know, he can’t guess; and he _wants_ to know, suddenly, painfully, with an absolute intensity that steals his breathing as quickly as Aki’s hitches over the precipitous rise to relief. Shima wants to get up, wants to push up from his blankets and step across the room and press himself to Aki’s body, to fit the lines of his existence to the shape of the other’s; to wrap his fingers atop Aki’s fast-moving hand, to seize the other’s rhythm and sweep it into something faster, until Aki is left to clutch at Shima’s shoulders and tremble in the helpless shudders of desire spiking too quickly to be resisted. Shima wants to...Shima wants...and behind him, clear in the silence of the room, Aki gasps a sound, an open-throated groan of want, and Shima hiccups a shocked inhale that is drowned out by the convulsive tremor of Aki coming under the drag of his hand over himself.

He’s sure, for a moment, that Aki must have heard him, that his reaction will have given away his entire premise of sleep; but Aki doesn’t say anything, just breathes himself through the slow shudders of aftershocks, and Shima’s heartrate eases from the worst edge of panic that so held him for a moment. He’s still staring at the wall when he hears Aki sit up, with a faint groan of effort that speaks entirely to his certainty that he’s unobserved, and he keeps still through the soft sound of Aki cleaning himself up and rearranging his sheets for bed. There’s the shift of blankets being drawn up, a sigh of comfort as Aki settles himself; and then the sound of breathing, still a little rough with the lingering speed of pleasure but slowing fast, dipping down into relaxation and immediately over the edge towards true sleep with all the speed Shima has come to expect from his brother.

Shima does not sleep. Shima lies absolutely still in the tangle he’s made of his blankets, his myopic gaze fixed on the wall before him and the heat of his unsatisfied arousal aching into a knot in his stomach, and he breathes as silently as he can as he thinks about the sound of fingers dragging over sweat-warm skin, and the gasp of breathing past familiar lips, and the lingering shape of his name formed into the telltale heat of a moan in his brother’s throat.


End file.
